


i thought you had forgotten

by PenelopeJadewing



Series: fictober 2018 [8]
Category: Naruto, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Crossover, Fictober 2018, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hoshigaki Kisame-centric, Sentimental, best bros, bit of exposition, it's Kisame's job to provide a distraction, when Itachi's depressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 10:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16324364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenelopeJadewing/pseuds/PenelopeJadewing
Summary: It's 4PM on June 9th, and Itachi hasn't even come out of his room yet. Shigaraki wants to treat his fellows well, so Kisame's tasked with dragging the Uchiha out to meet them. He finds himself surprisingly sentimental on his way to do just that.





	i thought you had forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> AND WE'RE BACK FOLKS. i'm a day behind on the fictober prompts but OH WELL. Have some shark boy.
> 
> Happy birthday to me!
> 
> ~P.J.

Hoshigaki Kisame is a man of simple pleasures.

He likes clear skies, clearer traffic. Sweet teas and the bitterest coffee. Cold beer, warm company. So long as he has clothes on his back, gas in his car, and a gun on his back, he’s content. He doesn’t want for more, or suffer less. Mercenary work pays well and so long as he pays his taxes, he gets to spend the rest as he wills.

Of course, it’s been much easier since he got the Uchiha job. From day one, the government sent him quite the pretty sum on the monthly, both to keep him quiet and to help support the child they’d turned into a monster. And though the sum had been cut a bit once that child came of age and left the nest, the hush money kept a-coming.

_D***, that feels like forever ago now…_

Uchiha Itachi sure was something back in those days. Not even fourteen and already bloodstained. When Kisame had read the briefing for the mission, he’d gained all the surface information he needed to know this kid was a pampered, conservative middle-class prodigy with a Quirk that made him capable of scrambling your brains to bits just by looking him in the eye, but. At the time, a younger him had assumed the child would be one of two things: an insufferable brat or a psychological train wreck. Kisame had been marginally unprepared to be introduced to probably the most respectful pre-teen he’d never known could even  _exist_ , much less be responsible for the deaths of twelve adults—from a  _Hero agency_  no less.

Itachi’s in-born skill had become evident the moment he’d started training the kid. Kisame wasn’t even a good teacher… F***, he was just twenty-four himself at the time, he never finished high school, and he’d certainly never had any experience with children. But Itachi responded remarkably well to his admittedly brutal teaching methods. He even added extra regiments in his free time, without Kisame’s prompting.

The psychological train wreck part came later, of course.

How could it not? The kid had been forced to become a murderer. It was amazing of course that he did it and so flawlessly, but still,  _he did it_. The kid dreamed of drowning in blood and often woke up choking on his own screams. Kisame would listen from the next room, waiting for the darkness to sink slowly back into silence. Just once, he thought maybe he should check on the kid… but he never did.

It was better if Itachi learned to handle things on his own.

And he did. Kisame can look back now and count on one hand the number of times the Uchiha asked for  _anything_. Most of the time, he took care of his own business… Took initiative in training, taught himself for the most part with the books (since it didn’t take long for his lessons to out-pace Kisame’s school knowledge), kept to himself otherwise. H***, it was three years in before Kisame even learned when the kid’s birthday was. 

 _“Please don’t do anything,”_ Itachi had practically begged (read: asked politely).

 _“Don’t expect anything,”_ Kisame had answered.

So things had always gone by the same as always. Training, school, more training, getting better and better at a ridiculous rate. Itachi took every bruise as a lesson and came back swinging harder the next day. And when he wasn’t doing that, the kid isolated himself in the woods doing who knows what; Kisame never found out. And if he wasn’t doing _that_ , he was off doing the strangest things like… cooking dinner. Reading. Napping. Weird domestic s***. Once, Kisame found him out on the porch of their isolated little cabin in the middle of nowhere, just… sitting. Looking out over the yard, the trees, the freaking birds. At at that point, Kisame had to ask: what was he doing?

When Itachi replied with a simple  _‘Existing,’_  Kisame had finally clued in.

Uchiha Itachi is a man of simple pleasures too.

Maybe that comes from traumatic experience, eh? Learning to appreciate what you can get.

Well, these days, Kisame can get quite a lot. Being in the League of Villains means he has to keep a lower profile than usual, as well as actually stick around the same area indefinitely. But he’s still getting that hush money like clockwork, and he’s pretty good at poker and the only person who can keep up with him is Dabi, so the two have formed something of a conglomerate. The other members seem to owe one or both of them pretty regularly, so Kisame’s still never wanting for cash.

And he still gets to spend it however he wants.

That’s how he ended up here. Climbing the stairs that lead from the League’s main living space (the bar) to the dinky little apartments on the second floor. It’s 4 o’ clock on June 9th, and Itachi hasn’t even come out of his room yet.

Can’t have that.

_D*** it, Hoshigaki, when did you become such a sap?_

Kisame lets himself in, regardless of what Itachi may or may not be doing. The lights are out and the window’s open, a listless breeze rustling its way past the sill and circling a draft around the old wood floorboards. Of course, Itachi’s doing exactly what Kisame assumed he would be: absolutely nothing. At twenty years old—or, twenty-one now—he’s grown a lot since their days at their cabin. Taller, not broader; the kid’s still stick-thin as all get out. And yet, he still manages to seem small and terribly  _pitiful_  sprawled across his bed, arms limp at his sides, staring at the ceiling with no emotion on his face.

Kisame snatches the black jacket from off the desk chair to the left of the door and, as Itachi raises his head to assess the intruder, chucks the lump of emo leather over that sad face and long, loose hair. “Up you go, kid. Shigaraki’s orders, we’re going out for drinks.”

Itachi drags the jacket off his head, which leaves his normally-silky hair now mussed and static-ridden, but the Uchiha doesn’t even fix it. His movements are languid and strained—must be a bad day, then. He has those now and then… more often these days, actually. But as usual, the proud child won’t come clean. Kisame’s not about to make him; who is he to complain? He taught Itachi to be self-sufficient. Still, he purses his lips while folds his arms over his chest to wait.

_Chill the f*** out, dude. He’s not your kid or anything._

Slowly, much too slowly, Itachi’s eyebrows pinch at the center, reacting to the whole of the situation. Raising pitch black eyes, he regards Kisame with a confused stare. “…what’s the occasion?”

“Don’t play dumb, Itachi. It insults me.”

An apathetic blink later, Itachi closes his eyes and rubs a hand over his face, releasing an obviously pent-up sigh into his palm. From there, he doesn’t move—his hand a cage that shields him from the dark room, and the rest of the world. “…I thought… you had forgotten.”

Kisame sniffs. “Now why would I do that? Have you forgotten who raised you?”

“You did not,” Itachi harumphs, forsaking his usual poise.

“Did too.”

“Well then, you did a horrible job.”

“And where would you be if I hadn’t?”

“Hmm…” His hand drops and Itachi begins lethargically to pull the jacket onto his person. Kisame’s smug—or at least, he fakes it pretty well. Meanwhile, he eyes the thinness of the kid’s arms before they disappear into the folds of heavy fabric. “All right… you win today. I’m tired.”

“I can tell.” Kisame jerks his head toward the door. “Let’s go. Your admirer is waiting.”

“Please don’t start that again. I don't have the energy to put you to sleep today.”

Kisame laughs and throws a big arm over his apprentice’s shoulders, guiding him out of his solitary confinement and into the dim but warm light of the hallway beyond. At the very end, Shigaraki, Kurogiri, Dabi, and Mr. Compress are waiting—the only ones who agreed to come, but they did so of their own free will. They want to be here. Kisame counts that as warm company. Tonight will be a night of simple pleasures.

“Happy birthday, Itachi.”


End file.
